


Mirrors

by moriatake



Category: League of Legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9883421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriatake/pseuds/moriatake
Summary: Based off canon Jhin lore.





	

Khada Jhin no longer felt the once- familiar presence of his mask, no longer felt the smooth handle of Whisper running up and down his palm. And yet he more than occasionally thought of what he used to be, where he performed so wondrously, so passionately, though no one clapped at the end. No one cheered him on, blessing his very being. His performances were perfect, yes, but with a startlingly disturbing beauty that no one could look away from, yet no one could appreciate.  
He had cast away his guns, cast away his mask and identity with such an unnerving ease that it startled even him. The silence had become too much, too predictable, too boring. His performances faltered, faded, then suddenly stopped, much to the anger of the Ionian council. Caravans dared to run freely throughout the country again. The past performances rotted away or were cleaned up, and his name became one of the haunting myths that spread through the country like wildfire, children’s tales that were much more exaggerated than his artwork had once been.

With Jhin’s absence, Ionia and its citizens were free of its terrifying Golden Demon.

“And now, the curtain rises!”  
Jhin’s hands gestured extravagantly to the stage, the gave a small yank on the rope that drew the cloth up. The frame of the wooden puppet stand held, and he raised two marionettes to accommodate with the story. The children, wide-eyed with amazement, followed his every move. Jhin gave a little smile, then continued with his story.  
The tale was a simple one. A lonely shepherd and a lovely young woman meet one day, and they fall deeply in love with each other. She proposes to him, and they get married to live happily with each other on his farm. However, a murderer sweeps through the region and kills the woman, leaving the shepherd grief- stricken and vengeful. The shepherd chases after the murder tries to kill him, but ends up dying instead. The shepherd then reaches out for his wife on last time-  
“Mister storyteller, that’s a very dark story!” A child called out throughout the protesting, young crowd. “Tell a happier one!”  
Jhin turned towards the child and gave a slight frown. “No story is truly happy, because they’re all modeled after the lives of others. Every story is riddled with death and sadness, young one.”  
The child defiantly jutted out his chin. “But they’re stories, Mister!”  
Jhin sighed in defeat. “Your ignorance is admirable, yet you are so young. The world is full of death and sadness, and you choose to remain bright. Very well.”  
He did not have the heart to tell the child that his story was one he had participated in, where he turned the wife into a beautiful creature but her husband had no appreciation for such art. The man had hunted him down and shot at his arm, which was now replaced with a prosthetic. How hard he had tried to forget those moments of beauty where a clean kill brought joy, no matter how brief, to his life.  
Not many recognized him without his mask and trademark guns. Not many even believed he was still alive after his rampage ended- and yet here he was, in his home village, welcomed but feared, telling stories to the children.  
Jhin rubbed his temples to clear his head and prepared the stage for another show, when a from behind stopped him.  
“Ah, Mr. Khada. We haven’t seen each other in some time.”  
Jhin felt a ghost of a smile grace his lips at the voice. It was older, and full of much more malice than he had remembered, but it was definitely recognizable. A painful yet strong reminder that no matter how much time had passed, no one could outrun their identity.  
“Indeed, Shen. Would you like to join the audience for this performance?”  
Long ago, that sentence would have meant something else. A taunt, dripping with paint and blood, with the sickly sweet scent of lotus flowers drifting through the rank air. Yet he still kept the offer casual, and gestured towards the children as a small sign of truce.  
There was a pause in the conversation, and Jhin realized that while he could not see Shen, the children could. His eyes darted up and he saw them cowering in the firelight, eyes fearful as they gazed at the Eye of Twilight. Eye of Twilight indeed, for Jhin knew that he could see all. There was a reason to this meeting tonight, yet Jhin allowed himself to wonder if Shen was truly alone in this encounter.  
Shen still did not respond, and Jhin did not dare look up. Instead, he calmly went back to preparing for the next puppet show when Shen spoke again.  
“I might as well join in. After, however, we have some business to settle.”  
Shen walked out from behind Jhin, and the children hastily made a path for him to walk to the back of the clearing and sit down. Addressing the children’s nervous looks, Jhin smiled reassuringly. “There’s no need to be afraid. This is Shen, and old, ah, friend, of mine.”  
Shen’s eyes flashed noticeably at the title before settling down again, yet he remained silent. Still somber as usual, isn’t he? Jhin thought in amusement, then raised the puppets.  
“There were three powerful ninjas once, a master, and his two top apprentices. They were feared and respected throughout Ionia, for they knew the meaning of balance and security-”  
Jhin look up briefly to meet Shen’s startled gaze once more, then gave a slight smile and went back to his performance. He told extravagant stories, weaving details into a narrative of their feats and how hard they had worked to earn the country’s respect. Their successes, their failures, their joys and sadnesses.  
The stories and legends of Kusho, Shen, and Zed.  
At last, he finished. The children cheered wildly, jumping up and down, clutching each other in excitement. The sky had gone dark, and he half- heartedly chased the children back to the main village.  
“Thank you, Mister Storyteller!”  
“We’ll be back tomorrow?”  
Jhin gave a slight bow. “Of course, young ones. I will be waiting.”  
He could hear Shen’s footsteps approaching slowly behind him, then felt a sudden cold grip on his shoulder.  
“Storytelling? That’s something I didn’t expect.”  
Jhin smiled a bit. “I didn’t either, but clearly not everyone enjoys a live performance.”  
“Clearly.” Shen snapped, and it was then that Jhin finally turned around to face him.  
“Shen,” Jhin cleared his throat for a moment, then continued. “Shen. I may be half blind and old, but I am not a fool. Who have you brought along to rampage through this village? I may be guilty, but this village is harmless. Should you bring death here-”  
Shen cut him off with a small wave. “I am alone here. Your village is safe. It is you I want to talk to.” His brows furrowed. “What a performance.”  
Jhin returned his gaze. “A performance, indeed. I assumed I had most of it correct? It would be a pity for me to have the most important adventures wrong.”  
The Eye snorted. “It was accurate, though for you to find details that well done I’d have to question how you found them. Though I’m sure I already know,” He added, voice hardening at the end, “which brings me back to why I’m here.”  
Jhin spread his hands. “How long has it been, Shen? 4 years? No one remembers me, and a public execution would just call your authority into question. I live to entertain, if not for the vast crowds anymore. Let me live for the children.” He finishes, his voice tired. “This is not a request for my selfish desire to live. I just want to pass on the tales of the ones who I ended. A redemption of sorts.”  
Shen did not get a chance to speak again, because just as he opened his mouth, the same child that had asked Jhin for stories ran in between the two men.  
“Mister Storyteller is a nice man, I swear!” He cried, hugging Jhin’s leg. “Mister, please don’t kill him. Please, please! He’s really good at storytelling, he cares about the village, and we all like him- don’t take him away, please, Mister-”  
Jhin patted the boy’s head gently to calm him down, and the child’s cries receded into quiet sobs. Shen looked at the boy, then back at Jhin, his gaze hardening.  
“Khada…”  
“Shen.”  
Shen sighed loudly, then rubbed his temples, brows furrowing again. The boy hugged Jhin’s leg closer to him, still sniffling, eyes and nose red. Jhin simply stood, petting the boy’s head, his left eye never leaving Shen.  
Finally, the Eye of Twilight looked back up at the former Golden Demon, his eyes hard.  
“If you… if there is ever a case of mass murdering in Ionia, or anywhere, you understand the future consequences, correct?” Shen’s voice was cold, stern, and unforgiving- a far cry from his youthful appearance. Perhaps his experiences with Zed in the past had changed him drastically, or the pressure of the spirit world and his responsibility to maintain the order had reformed him. Whatever it was, he followed his own orders. Shen had undoubtedly grown since their last meeting- for better or for worse, though, Jhin was not entirely sure.  
“...Yes.”  
Shen straightened his posture, then sighed deeply. “I hope I do not regret letting you slip away once again, Khada.”  
Jhin’s eyes widened slightly along with the boys, then gave a small chuckle. “You have grown to be much like your father, Shen. Hopefully you will not meet as bloody of an end.”  
Shen shouldered his spirit blade, ready to leave, when Jhin reached out a hand to stop him.  
“What is it?”  
Jhin uncurled his fingers to reveal the small puppet he had been using to represent Shen in his show. “A sign of truce.”  
Under his mask, Shen felt himself smile. Touched, he took the small puppet, tucking it in his sleeve.  
“Until we meet again, Khada.” Shen gave the older man a slight bow, and Jhin gave him a small wave in return. “Have a safe trip back.  
The boy watched Shen go with wide, wet eyes, then turned to look up at Jhin.  
“Mister Storyteller, aren’t there monsters in the forest?”  
Jhin crouched down to match the child in height, patting his head affectionately. “Yes, little one. There are many.”  
“Then why did you let him leave by himself?”  
Jhin smiled. “Child, the puppet I gave him is a clear sign to the monsters that he is my friend, and that I will protect him. No harm will come to him so long he keeps my gift. The monsters fear my wrath.”  
The boy scrunched his face up in deep thought. “But why would they fear you, Mister Storyteller?”  
Jhin led the boy back to his house through the darkness, the borders of the village lit dimly with torches. Before the boy went back to his house, he looked at Jhin again.  
“Mister Storyteller?”  
Jhin turned towards the child, a small, sad smile flitting across his lips.

“Because, little one, monsters do not like mirrors.”


End file.
